Fallout: Snow
by Spaghetti From the Basement
Summary: We know of the Capital Wasteland, and soon we shall know of Boston, but what of the area in between? Pennsylvania, once home to lush pine forests and large amounts of wildlife now serves as a telling sign of the devastation of nuclear war, with the snow that will never melt. Fallout AU. Be sure to leave a comment and/or criticism!
1. Prologue

Prologue:

A Foreword from the Author

There were only one hundred and twenty-two vaults commissioned to be built by Vault-Tec in the United States of America. Although that number is debated among those of us who remain, it rings true to my ears. As I wade through ankle deep snow that never melts, trying to survive one more day, one more moment, I find myself looking back again, taking in what I've seen, and realizing that whatever the decision was, to make one hundred and twenty-two arks to wade out the flood of apocalypse, was the right choice in all of this. Without a society to bring the people in, to keep them under control, adding a large population is only asking for trouble. Especially in the ankle deep snow that will never melt.

They called this place Pennsylvania before the war. One of the original states in the former United States, named after a certain man with the last name Penn, with the suffix "Sylvania" referring to the large density of trees found within the borders. It was home to a city once known as "Philadelphia", a home of liberty and freedom. As far as I know, located three hundred miles northwest of that city, nothing is left but a hole in the ground where freedom once was. The resulting detonations and firestorms bent the jetstream in a way that none had intended. Chilling air came down from the northern world over the east coast, bending back up right around the Mason-Dixon line, hooking northeast, and coming up on the western border of Massachusetts. The resulting turbulence put the entire area, formerly Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Vermont, and New Hampshire under a nuclear winter unlike one ever seen. Since that year, 2077, the temperature has never made it back above twenty-eight degrees. Luckily, the vaults saved at least a small percentage of the population.

I was born in a Vault, Vault number eighty-one to be precise, which was nestled neatly in the Back Mountains of Pennsylvania. The nearest town was Tunkhannock, located fifteen miles to the north, or so we were taught. My Pip Boy, model number three thousand, tells me the year is two thousand, two hundred, and sixty-one, meaning I left my vault in fifty-seven, when I was seventeen. God, it was such an eventful year; the G.O.A.T., love in the air, and roulette, everything was shaping up well. Until, well, I got kicked out.

I suppose this is what this journal is for, although I'm not entirely sure why I'm taking this down. Hell, I'd be surprised if there were many other people besides me that could actually read whatsoever, stuck out here in the snowy abyss.

Besides the point, this is going to be where I write down all that has happened thus far, and all that will be happening in the future. A friend of mine suggested I do this way, way back, and he was right. Sitting here and collecting my thoughts is nice, despite the fact that it is cold as all hell right now. The Pip Boy says the external temperature is a whopping seven degrees, and even inside of my modest cabin, I can still feel winter's permanent chill.

I've gone by a few names out here. In the first town they called me the "Wet-Eared Vault Dweller", or "Vault Dweller" for short, although the name never really took. Then, they started calling me other things. The one I preferred most was "Snow", given to me by a bartender at a place I frequented. He claims it was because I was a natural out in the wastes, and for a time, I believed what he had to say. It wasn't until his daughter explained that it was because I got buffeted by falling snow on my way in the door that night, that I learned the true meaning. Still, the name caught, and soon the outlying areas began to talk of The Snow, and what her appearance would mean. Hell, one group of tribals even started worshipping me, but that's another story for another time.

I think I know the purpose of this journal now. It's for you, the one who will be next to exit Vault Eighty-One, just a few short months from now. I'm sure you know it by now, seeing as you have to be at least fifteen to leave, but the Vault can't keep such high populations. It was built to sustain a maximum of sixty people, and the number grows exponentially. They speak of a Great Exodus, in which a large number of radicals exited the vault at once with guns blazing, all because they were sick of living within the suffocating walls and wanted to see the real world.

Don't believe them. It's a lie. It all was.

It was then the lottery began. By kicking out exactly the right amount of people, of both genders, they were able to curb the population enough to only hold the lottery once every five years. They exclude those with the important jobs, the elderly, and the pregnant, so, usually, it comes down to us kids to leave. And the occasional janitor. For those of you my age, Felix died out in the snow, never to be seen again. It's a shame too; I would have liked to have met up with him again. He was such a cool janitor.

Back on topic. The world out here is harsh. And I'm going to be giving you my story so that you might know that you can survive, that you can prosper. This winter is never going to end, but each and every one of us has what it takes to survive out here, so long as you look at what is inside.

Underneath this journal is going to be a revolver, and twenty bullets. Take care of them. That gun will be your only friend for a while. Until you can go out and blaze your own path, you're going to get into lots and lots of fights. Everything out here wants your head on a platter, but so long as your shots are true, you can beat the wasteland.

Now that junk is over with, let's move on to introductions. My name is Katrina, last name unimportant, but for niceness, it's deTheos. I was born Katrina deTheos in the year 2240, to my father, Kevin, and my mother, Amanda.

This is my story. 

* * *

_War. War never changes._

 _Pennsylvania, a once great state forged from the fires of freedom, found itself forced mercilessly underground by the atomic hellfire of the Great War. In 2077, it was one of the first places to receive a bombardment, in the few hours before the world was turned into ash. Yet, something happened that made this place very particular._

 _Whether it is true or not, Pennsylvania, New York, and western New England is currently in a state of permanent winter. Tales of scientists spinning fluid filled beakers say it was the effect of a nuclear blast shaping the very atmosphere, but after two hundred years, it remains trapped under a blanket of snow, a shell of the former land of opportunity it once was._

 _The Enclave hold this area. They claim to wave the banner of the United States, but in all truth, they rule the mountains with an iron fist. Those who dare speak against them are silenced, villages are burned, and the name of the Enclave is forever cursed in the minds and in the shadows of the brutal Appalachian Mountains. In these shadows and thoughts, though, resistance arises, under the white and black flag of two burning eyes. The Church of Heraclitus wishes the opposite of the tyrannical Enclave, advocating in favor of complete and utter anarchy._

 _However, in the face of such harsh elements, the spirit of freedom lives on in the common men and women that dare to live on. Katrina deTheos is one such person, born a Vault Dweller, but shaped by the very snow outside the walls that she hated at first, but grew to accept as one of her own. This is the story of The Snow, a name that will live on in the hushed whispers and dark shadows where freedom still lives on._


	2. Part 1

Part One

My entire childhood was spent in the Vault. We were supposed to leave; that was what they promised us in the brochure, and they didn't lie. Twenty years after the door slammed shut, they opened once again. However, what came to the eyes of our ancestors was a winter wasteland unlike what they expected. The Overseer at the time, a wise man who goes is known to us as Campbell, made the executive decision to remain in the Vault, and use the Garden of Eden Creation Kit inside an extensive cave system found behind a collapsed wall in the lowest levels of the Vault. It took some tinkering, but at the time of his death, Campbell wrote of how the modified G.E.C.K. would be completed within the next ten or so years.

Two hundred years later, as I was seated in the back of the Vault's diner, tucked into a book detailing the ancient history of the United States of America, the Garden of Eden never came. Nobody's quite sure what happened to the actual device; all we know is that it isn't in the Vault anymore. The story gone with by the Overseer was that it was taken during the Great Exodus nearly fifty years ago, and I believed him. Why shouldn't I, after all? The Overseer was an elected official; holding all the power in the Vault's walls. So, as a naive sixteen year old, I believed him.

The Overseer at the time was a stiff old man. Many compare him to Campbell, the first Overseer, who we only know through the existence of texts describing his actions. His name was Shaun Davidson McNeil. Six feet tall, rather well put together for an old man, and missing his right eye; he looked more like a veteran security guard than the Overseer. But, then again, that was the fun part. He was a veteran security guard, having earned the respect of our peers during an assault of deadly radroaches. They claimed his right eye, and the lives of three people. His heroics, though, earned him the job at Overseer, in the hopes that his stone cold heart would make him able to easily continue the tradition of the Roulette in the vault.

The population of the Vault had been growing much more quickly than in previous years, and there had been whispers of a second selection at the Roulette in this cycle. It would be an unprecedented event, seeing that, at the time, it would have been the first time more than one person had left the Vault since the Exodus, which was fifty years ago.

The population of the Vault of climbing again; reaching seventy-three by the time of the G.O.A.T., which was, according to the elderly in the Vault, a big problem. You see, Vault Eighty-One wasn't as big as the other Vaults commissioned in the States. In fact, it was the smallest. Fifty-five people came into the Vault, the doors sealed, and then seventy-six walked out, and sixty-seven remained. The others, the only ones to leave before the Exodus, are not named anywhere in the Vault's history books, so no one knows what happened to them. Legends persist, but nothing concrete has ever been confirmed.

The doors to the diner swished open, and a pair of footsteps sounded in the threshold. There was a brief moment of pause, and then the sound of a clearing throat. I looked up. A gruff, older man stood there, scratching his grey stubble, and staring at me with sharp blue eyes. We glared at each other for an unspoken minute, interrupted by the grin and snicker of the man himself.

"Katrina, you do know what time it is, right?"

His voice was deep, yet smooth, rather uncharacteristic of his "lone survivor" look. Then again, he'd never fully pull it off, seeing as the commissioned Vault Eighty-One jumpsuit still looked completely ridiculous.

I shrugged, and glanced down at my Pip Boy. Two thirty-five, AM, Eastern Standard Time. Or, at least, that was the standard of time when the bombs fell. I told him what I found, muttering the words under my breath. I pushed my thick rimmed glasses back onto my nose.

The man approached, and sat in the booth opposite mine, letting out a sigh. The robot in charge of the diner approached, and posed a question.

"Would you like anything this evening, Mr. Roberts?"

"Mr. Roberts" waved his hand dismissively. "Just a cup of Joe. The usual." As the robot turned away, chirping his recognition of the order, Mr. Roberts muttered something under his breath. "I told you to call me James, you damn robot..." Watson, the robot, was too far away to pick up the remark, but I certainly wasn't.

I laid my book down and leaned forward, pulling a sarcastic grin onto my face. "Why, what's the matter, 'Mr. Roberts'?" James glared at me now, putting away the grin he had in the doorway. I fell back into my seat again, giggling gently. "God, you're so sensitive. What do you want?"

James lit up a cigarette, behind careful to blow the first column of smoke away from my face. I still glared at him, though. "You know what happens tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, it's the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test. What of it?"

Watson set the mug besides James, pouring in three packets of sugar, and bidding Mr. Roberts a good evening. James mutter a swear under his breath, but brushed the robot off.

"You should be sleeping. You know how McNeil gets when people are late."

I scoffed. "James, why, you think I'm going to oversleep again, don't you?" I tried my best to act offended, and again, James didn't look nearly as thrilled as I had hoped he would. I raised an eyebrow, and dropped the act. "Look, James, I appreciate you looking out for me, like always. Being the only orphan in the Vault sucks, so it was great to have a friend of my parents looking after me. Even though we're both outcast here." James took a sip of his coffee, tapping some loose ash from the end of his cigarette with his other hand. "But I'm sixteen now. I'm all grown up. You don't need to worry anymore, I promise."

The mug of coffee came down gently on the table, and with the hand he let go of the mug with, James ran his fingers through his hair. "Once you have a kid, you'll understand." He chuckled gently. "There is no 'no need to worry' as a parent, Katrina. Once you're in the heart, there isn't anything you, or anybody else, can do to get you out again."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. Something sung by Glenn Miller came onto the jukebox; My Prayer, I think it was, and it was sort of fitting. A solemn yet hopeful song. I placed my hand on James' shoulder, and when he looked up, I gave him a strong smile.

"Thanks for everything, James. I really appreciate everything you've done for me." Although, at the time, I found the words coming out of his mouth rather laughably sappy, I find it now to be one of the final gestures of love given to me, even now, four years later.

James shook his head, and pushed onto his feet, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray. He motioned his head for me to follow. "C'mon. You need to sleep. Tomorrow is the big day."

And so I followed, and tucked into my bedroom. I switched off the light, set my glasses on the dresser, and went to sleep. Tomorrow, I would get assigned my job training program. Truly, as a vault dweller, nothing was more exciting.

* * *

My alarm sounded, but I refused to wake up, throwing the thing across the room. It shattered against the wall, and I went back to sleep. Or, at least, I tried to. The words James spoke last night, well, the words he hadn't spoken stuck to the front of my consciousness, and I found myself springing upwards, nearly collapsing out of my bed. The worst part of the moment was that I wasn't getting up for my own betterment; in fact, the last thing on my mind was pleasing McNeil and his goons. My thought process was that if I was late, James would have been correct. And that would mean that tonight, in the diner, he would never let me live it down. That bastard had a way of making himself so incredibly insufferable when he was doing his damned "I told you so" dance, that I decided to skip the extra sleep, and get dressed.

I dropped out of my underwear and headed into the bathroom, and stood under the shower head, letting out a gentle sigh when the warm stream of water washed away yesterday's grime. I washed myself quickly, hopping out of the shower in five minutes flat, as per usual. I pulled my jumpsuit on with one hand while running the brush through my hair with the other, wincing every time I caught myself in my own hair. I stood before the full sized mirror when I was finished, and slapped both hands against my cheeks. Today was the day. Let's do this.

I jogged from my room after catching a glimpse of my Pip Boy in the mirror. It was seven fifty-seven, and my interview was at eight, sharp. I ducked around random people in the hall; the janitor, Juan, the schoolteacher, Rebecca, and a small group of much younger girls that were happily skipping about with their toys. Watson wished me a good day, and since he didn't understand the situation, refused to move. So, I dropped to my hip and slid underneath him, gathering onto my feet once past him, and going into a roll, tactfully getting back onto my feet once again. However, the momentum was too much for me to control, so I tripped, and skidded to a halt before my destination. Right as I came to a halt, the door swished open, and out stepped the Overseer, flanked by his right hand man, or woman. His daughter, Terra Davidson McNeil.

McNeil scoffed. "Figured I'd find a rat like you like this." He stared down at me with cold, unfeeling eyes. Terra, who was my age, and hated me more than her father, snorted herself, keeping back an exclamation of laughter.

McNeil lifted his Pip Boy. "Eight o'clock. At least the rat can keep time." He turned into the doorway, paying no mind to me as I stood and brushed myself off, finishing by running my sleeve over my scuffed glasses. "Come inside. We are going to make this quick."

I followed right after him, and Terra came at my rear, closing the door behind her. McNeil took his seat behind his semi-circular desk, throwing his feet up onto it without a care. Terra sat in the back corner, and quietly pulled out a notepad. She nodded to a seat in front of the curved part of the desk, under the light from a lamp hovering directly above the chair. I did as she asked, and found myself staring out into a darker part of the room, barely able to make out my interviewer. It felt much more like an interrogation than an interview to decide my future. McNeil sighed. "Now, we have the results of your written G.O.A.T., and here are the results."

A piece of paper appeared from the darkness, and on it marked what skills I possessed most readily.

 _Tag Skills:_

 _Melee Weapons_

 _Repair_

 _Medicine_

 _Perks:_

 _Four Eyes - Minus one Perception point, but gain two perception points when wearing glasses._

 _Skilled - Plus five to all skills, but a negative ten percent to all experience gained._

All the while I read this, McNeil was throwing sharpened pencils at the roof, seeing if they would stick. However, in the dark, he forgot the roof was metal, so now he was trying to see how loud of a noise he could make with them. I set the paper down. "Now what?"

"We ran your gym class grades, and here are the results for those."

Another piece of paper joined the other. On the top, it read "Everyone is S.P.E.C.I.A.L."

 _S.P.E.C.I.A.L.:_

 _Strength: 5_

 _Perception: 7_

 _Endurance: 6_

 _Charisma: 4_

 _Intelligence: 8_

 _Agility: 7_

 _Luck: 3_

I wasn't exactly enthralled by how low my luck skill was ranked, and frankly, I wonder how such a trait was even quantifiable. But, I didn't argue. It all added up to a nice and even forty points, after all, so perhaps I was just better in these other areas than others.

Finally, a little ticket stub slid across the desk, with the word "APPROVED" stamped in tiny text over the brand name of the ticket. It was numbered "0776890", and as I picked it up, another ticket came sliding across. The partner to this raffle ticket. And it had my name on it.

"What does all of this mean, Overseer McNeil?" It felt like forcing myself to vomit to say McNeil's name with his title, but it was clear that I was already on a bad note with the man, so I forced myself nonetheless.

"It means that you're this years lucky winner. Or, should I say, lucky loser." My eyes widened, and from my hands, the papers and ticket fell, all besides the losing ticket, which I clamped tightly in the palm of my hand.

He shook his head slowly. "You've lost the Roulette this cycle, Katrina. We will be forced to ask you to leave, six months from now."

That was it? I was this cycle's loser. It was then I realized the number on my gym report. The bottom value. Luck. It was a three out of a possible ten. Was this some kind of joke? McNeil had to have known about this, so did he purposely tank such a stupid number? I lunged forward and slammed my fist on the desk.

"What do you mean I've lost? This is a joke, isn't it?!" I was practically screaming, but McNeil didn't even flinch. He simply stared into my blue eyes with that brown eye of his own, showing no emotions whatsoever.

"Katrina, you will be leaving Vault Eighty-One in exactly six months. I will not tell anyone of the Roulette, so it will be up to you for whom you tell this." He leaned forward in his chair, pulling his legs from the desk top and tucking them neatly underneath it. "Your name was pulled at complete random, Katrina. There is nothing I can do about it. It's the law."

There was a long moment of silence, as I fell back into my seat and went completely numb. Me, the cushy vault dweller, surviving the wastelands of ancient Pennsylvania? The thought was completely ludicrous. Yet, as I found myself leaving the office, entirely numb, heading down the hall, and returning to my room, ignoring each and every call for my attention, I realized that this was reality. I collapsed onto my bed, and gripped my face with both hands, bursting into tears that I hadn't seen in nearly six years.

I locked my door and shut off the lights, pulling the blankets over my head, and sitting in the corner of my bed, facing the wall. I wasn't sure exactly how long I sat there, staring into the distance, all the while the biggest hits of the old world played behind me.

It was probably three days before James was able to force his way into my room. He did so with much noise, essentially using a crowbar to pry the door open just enough that it would register the opening mechanism, and slide open. He was breathing heavily, but I didn't turn to greet him. Frankly, at the time I didn't even register his presence. I was still numbed by the news that I would be leaving my home to die in the wasteland and the horrors that were outside.

James took a seat on the opposite end of my bed, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and chin on his hands. There was a moment where James had to think of what to say, but as he opened his mouth, I threw the blanket up into the air and lunged at James, wrapping my hands around his wait in a tight embrace. Immediately, I began to weep uncontrollably. James gently rested a hand on my head, and pet my head as gently as possible. He was crying now too, but had it under control, only allowing a single tear to streak across his cheek.

"I heard, Katrina. McNeil told me about it." He sighed, and ran his other hand through his hair. It was when I looked up that I saw he was shaking, ever so slightly, but shaking. The last time he had been like this was ten years prior, when my parents left the Vault. They were losers too, and in keeping with tradition, I suppose, it was my turn to leave too. I had never really known my parents, as they left while I was so young, but from tales told by James, they seemed like some of the greatest people on the face of the planet. My father was the assistant to the James, the doctor in the Vault, so my father was exempt from the Roulette. My mother, however, was not, only holding a job as a simple maintenance worker. My father offered to go in her place, and when McNeil refused, they both left together, leaving behind their young daughter in the capable hands of the only vault dweller they could trust.

James smiled at me as best as he could, clearly still shattered by the thought of losing another one of the people he considered family. But he took my hand anyway and smiled on, nodding slowly.

"Katrina, if you are anything like your parents, you will be fine." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I'm going to give you everything I can before you head out there, though. It'll take some time, but I should be able to get it with enough to time install it." He bounced onto his feet, and headed to the door, mulling some thought over in his head. "I won't be able to be with you for quite a while, Katrina. I'm going to give you an ace up your sleeve."

I raised an eyebrow. "An ace?"

He looked back at me and grinned. "A little ditty I've been cooking up for a while now. I'll send you an email when the time comes."


	3. Part 2

Part Two

Six months went by in a flash. In fact, at the time, it was the fastest any period of time had ever gone by for me. Looking back now, I kind of regret not taking advantage of the time better than how I had. If I had even the slightest inkling of what would await me outside the walls of the Vault, I would have tried to make each and every moment live on for an entirety of their own. Youthful naivety stood in in the way of accomplishing this goal, and I found myself standing in the opening of the cog-shaped vault door. They had me standing at the top of the flight of stairs heading down to the door, away from the control panel, but within range of the three armed guards they had brought around just in case McNeil decided to shoot me rather than let me outside. It would have saved me a lot of trouble if he had just ended me there, but I guess he thought I wasn't worth the lead that went into the limited number of bullets he was in possession of. And it was for this reason that I didn't receive any form of gun. In fact, the Overseer didn't offer me any sort of weapon, instead handing me a thick winter coat and thick pants, claiming it was "all he could spare", all the while he was using his personal firing range to test the specs of his new sidearm which had no use in a controlled environment. James protested for better protection on my behalf, but was shut down almost instantly.

James sat me down about a month prior and broke to me the fact that McNeil wouldn't be offering me any weapons. Naturally, I was distraught, but he said he had a contingency plan. He spun in his chair while it rolled backwards, and he snapped to a stop under his desk. After a few minutes of tapping away on a computer, a footlocker in the back corner of the room hissed, decompressed, and clicked open. He then pushed off and slid to the crate, pulling out a wrapped up package, and sliding back to a rest in front of me. James handed it to me and smiled. "This is what I was perfecting for you."

I nodded once, and swallowed hard, unraveling the packages carefully. It was long and slender, and surprisingly light. My eyes widened at the sight. There were two parts to the contraption; the first of which was a long, exoskeletal arm, with a shoulder plate and glove for my right hand. The whole thing was made of sterling white metal, except for the black detail lines around the ridges of the shoulder plate, and the solid black gloves. Running across the fingers of the glove were small sensors made of tiny silver metal. The final part was an eyepiece, which had a screen to go over my right eye, and a bar of sensors that come over the top of my head, connected to the eyepiece like a pair of headphones. The eyepiece came back and hooked over the top of my ear, and from it dangled a small speaker, which was shaped enough for somewhat comfortable fitting in my ear.

"Wh-What is it?" I asked, self-consciously putting the eyepiece on. The screen buzzed for a second, and then the Vault-Tec logo appeared on the tiny screen, which was close enough for me, glasses and all, to make out the text. And then, when I slid the speaker into my ear, I heard a robotic voice chime from it.

" _Welcome to Vault-Tec's very own Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System, or V.A.T.S. My name is Vatty, and I will be your personal assistant in all of your targeting needs!_ " The mascot of Vault-Tec, the Vault Boy, sprung up from the bottom right of the screen and shot me his signature thumbs-up and wink.

"Vats?" I questioned, looking to James, who was motioned with his hands from me to hurry up and put the arm part on. I did so, and he grinned wildly.

"It's something that Vault-Tec was perfecting in other vaults, but not our own," he explained, pushing backwards, and coming to a rest with his elbow resting behind him on his desk. "The perfected Vats doesn't require the eyepiece or arm, but instead is an implant they give to newborns." He tapped his right temple, signifying where the implant would be received.. "This is the V.A.T.S. Model 0, the prototype. Sadly, it's the best I have. However," he slid open his desk drawer, and pulled out a survival knife the likes of which I had only seen in movies, and tossed into to me. My natural tendency was the flinch, but it was then I heard the tiny voice in my ear speak up again.

" _Commencing defensive maneuver. Host benefaction; 0%, taking autonomous action._ "

The hand that was connected to the exoskeleton moved instantly, and when my eyes opened, I had caught the blade of the knife in the tips of all of my fingers, and was holding it up into the air. Vatty ended his sequence, and suddenly my arm was my own again, and flopped back down, sending the knife clattering to the ground.

James grinned. "I think this one looks a lot cooler." He turned around again, and opened the large drawer on the bottom and side of the desk, and from it pulled a large, leather exterior gauntlet with its own wrist strap. He snapped it on for me, and turned it so the skeletal arm of the Model 0 was protected from wrist to mid-forearm. He let out a sigh. "It's the best I could manage with McNeil snooping around. If he found out I was giving you Vats, he'd have my head." He snapped his fingers as if forgetting to mention something. "Oh, yes, and Vats can be used to automatically aim any guns. However, it is prone to overheating. Once you start using him, you'll see a little meter in the bottom left of the screen. That's how hot Vatty is. And let's just say, don't let him overheat. There probably isn't anyone out there who can help you replace the parts if any of them melt."

I nodded, and we hugged. A month passed quickly, and here I was, standing at the top of the metal stairs leading towards the vaults doors that were screeching open. I had Vatty stuffed into the backpack they gave me, rather last minute, after hearing James provided me with a weapon. Not wanting to be outdone with the only man who dares speak against him, McNeil reluctantly gave up the usage of one of the military grade backpacks possessed by the Vault. I gave James another hug, and he rested his hands on my shoulders, and knelt, so I was finally taller than him.

James sighed, and held back his tears, giving me another tight hug at this level. He checked over his shoulders quickly, and saw no one was within earshot, so he whispered to me. "Katrina, so long as you have Vats, you should be safe." He pulled out a dusty holotape and shoved it into my chest, so I tucked it quietly into my jacket. "Head north. There was once a town there. Hopefully, there will be people living in the ruins." He checked over his shoulders again. "Please, try and find what happened to your parents. If you find them, tell them you have Vats, and tell them that the geck is compromised."

I was about to ask why, but McNeil stepped out from the group of point, and nodded towards the vault door. "Katrina, it's time."

I nodded slowly, and gave James a final hug. I took a deep breath, and headed down the stairs and out into the vault cave. An alarm sounded, and behind me, the gigantic steel cog slammed shut, and with it, I was left to my own devices, in a nearly pitch black cave, with only a tiny amount of light filtering from the cracks in a wicker door in the distance. I equipped Vatty, took out my knife, swallowed hard, and pressed forward, pushing open the door, and stepping, for the first time, into direct sunlight.

 _Quest Added:_

 _Salve Mater, Salve Pater_

 _Find any signs of your parents_

 _Tell your parents "The Geck is Compromised"_

 _We've Gotta Go North!_

 _Head north and find the town indicated on James' Crumpled Map_

 _HP: 100 RAD: 0% LVL: 1 EXP: 0% LMB: 100%_

 _Item(s) Found: Polished Survival Knife, V.A.T.S. Model 0, Vault 81 Fur Coat and Jumpsuit, Backpack_

* * *

There was a moment in which I could see nothing. My eyes had grown so accustomed to the artificial light, that once I was being bombarded with the natural stuff, something I had only heard of inside the vault, I was blinded. When my vision cleared, and I blinked the sight back into my eyes, I was able to behold the area in front of me.

Vault Eighty-One was built into the bottom of the mountain, so there was only a slight hill before I was able to reach the valley of this mountain and the next one, which rose up a bit into the distance. Slicing through the valley was only what I could presume was a road from the old world. I say "presumed" because the entire area was completely coated in ankle deep snow. However, tiny bits of black asphalt; again, something I had only read about at the time, stuck out in the tiny patches that weren't completely covered. I bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. It amazed me, the fact that such a peaceful looking thing could possibly exist. Hell, the entire area just blew me away, as it looked as if it was untouched by the years.

Huge pine trees rose high into the sky, dotting the area like a nicely dense forest. Not too bad, but not so sparse it would be easy to see through. I headed down the hill and stood in the center of the presumed road, and took my bearing. I slid the holotape into my Pip Boy. It worked for a moment, showing a loading icon in which the Vault Boy ran around a hamster's wheel, until finally, a new feature was installed below my "status" icon. "Data". I opened it, and found a few new buttons; "world map", "local map", "holotape collection", "doppler radar" and even a broadcast radio receiver. All of these things were not allowed to be installed in the standard vault dweller's Pip Boy, seeing as it was needless. Out here, however, it would probably prove life or death to know which direction one was headed into. It was at that moment I realized something; I needed to eat, drink, and sleep. These were all things that were readily available in the Vault, but now, out here, I would have to find my own way. And not freeze to death in the process. The Pip Boy read twenty-six degrees Fahrenheit, fifty degrees colder than it was inside the Vault. And at that moment, I shivered, and realized just how cold it really was out here. The wind didn't help much, either, sending bits of snow and at least ten degrees flying away with every blustering moment, instilling a sense of urgency to me. I needed to head north. There was a point marked on the map James gave me, his final gift, with the knife and Vatty. Truly, I had never been better off than I was right now.

I snapped my knife back into my right hand, and Vatty took notice. " _Equipped: Bladed Weapon. Blade Length?_ " It prompted my response.

"O-Oh, about eight inches? Nine max."

There was a moment where the Vault Boy in the eyepiece pondered my words, and then he shot me his thumbs-up and wink. " _V.A.T.S. calibrated. Say operator's name now._ "

I blinked and stuttered again. "K-Katrina."

Again, Vatty processed the information, and after a moment, shot me a thumbs-up. " _Welcome to V.A.T.S., Kah-Tree-Nah. V.A.T.S. Prototype Model 0, Model Number 1118976 is now calibrated to your personalized settings. If you wish to add another weapon, please, simply say 'Command Vatty; New Weapon'. From there, I will guide you through the targeting process._ "

I nodded. "How do I target things?"

Vault Boy pondered again, and then grinned his usual grin. " _V.A.T.S. is programmed to respond to your mental electricity. Attached to this eyepiece and earpiece is a headband, through which I use your mental stimulation to detect targets. If you simply think hard, I can pick up the signal, and take aim at a target._ "

Snazzy. James certainly wasn't messing around with this thing. Using my own brain waves to process targets sounded like something out of one of the novels I had to leave behind, but, alas, here it was, strapped to my arm.

"Any other features, Vatty?"

After processing the request, Vatty spoke again. " _V.A.T.S. Prototype Model 0 is equipped with three unmentioned features. First, V.A.T.S. automatically syncs up to any Official Vault-Tec Pip-Boy, model 2000 and later, and can inform you of any radiation poisoning, your current overall health on a scale of zero to one hundred, and the condition of all of your limbs. Subsequently, I can advise you on when to use healing items or not, but will be unable to do that for you._ "I nodded my understanding.

" _The second feature is the Vault-Tec Waypoint System, patent pending. By hooking up to an installed copy of the Vault-Tec Data Reader, any Waypoint, patent pending, can be found using the small beaded lights on your fingers. If the Waypoint if before you, with your fingers spread out, a stream of lights will direct you in that direction. If the Waypoint is behind you, your palm will glow. The Waypoint System, patent pending, can not account for roads or trails, however, so it will only show you the straight-line direction. Any questions about the Vault-Tec Waypoint System?_ " I told him I didn't.

" _The final feature is the Vault-Tec Short Range Life Detector. With this, any life in the immediate vicinity can be found and reported to you, so that you might be prepared for a fight. This feature can be turned off, however, so that if you are present in a high populated area, it won't overload and crash. For that, simply say; 'Command Vatty: Set Life Detector Value 0'. To turn the feature back on again, command for the value to be set to the number one!_ " There was a pause. " _Can I help you with anything else, Kah-Tree-Nah?_ "

I shook my head. "Thank you Vatty. Set my Waypoint to the town ten miles north."

The Vault Boy gave me a thumbs-up. " _Waypoint set. Entering Combat Level One._ "

I opened my palm, and held it out. Like Vatty said, the sensors moving across my fingers all lit up for a moment, before fading down, leaving on my middle finger, which pointed due north, right for the location James specified. I even checked my Pip Boy, and Vatty was right, the point on the map there lined up with the palm of my hand, almost perfectly. I smiled, and began a light jog north, tightening my hand around my knife, so I would be careful not to drop it. I followed the path for a good ten minutes, with nothing out of the ordinary coming from the pine forest or down from either of the mountains. Some clouds coming from the north promised snow, but according to my Pip Boy, it would be light snow at best. The radar bars spun around and only showed a light green patch of clouds, which promised to be better than their yellow or red cousins.

Perhaps, I thought, things wouldn't be so bad, after all. Things were looking rather nice so far. In hindsight, I had never thought anything so naive since then. For what awaited me was going to be far worse than anything I could ever imagine. And that realization started with the voice of Vatty chiming in my ear.

" _Two life forces detected. Tread with caution_."

 _HP: 100 RAD: 0% LVL: 1 EXP: 0% LMB: 100%_


	4. Part 3

Part Three

"Two life forces?" I asked, skidding to a halt, and starting to spin around in circles, desperately searching for two things that wouldn't want my head on a platter. After two complete rotations, and no sightings, and I questioned Vatty. "How far away are they?"

Vatty contemplated for a moment. " _Approximately twelve meters to the northwest. If the topography of the Pip Boy is reading correctly, they should be over the hill on your left side._ " There was definitely a hill to my left, and now that all was quiet, I could barely hear the sounds of footsteps shuffling about in the snow. I gasped, and lunged out of the main road, taking shelter in the back of a rotted out car, pressing myself close to the ground. My fur coat somewhat blended into the color of rotten leather, but the blue tints sticking out from my vault suit might prove to give me away. Still, I took in a deep breath once I heard voices from the direction.

"Fuck man, I'm itching for some of that fuckin' jet that shady guy was cookin' up in town." Two pairs of footsteps stopped in the main road. I could barely see them through a crack in the bent back door and frame. They were both clearly ruffians; raiders even, dressed in disgusting clothes, hair choppy and unkempt, similarly with facial hair, and from where I was, I swear I could smell whatever shit they were wading through. They probably hadn't seen a bath their whole lives, from the smell.

The second one, the slightly better kept of the two, who didn't look a minute from exploding from pent up drug withdrawal, and actually had slightly styled hair, blasted back from his face, shook his head slowly. "God damn Axel, I've told you a thousand times that the jet he's giving you is watered down to shit. You might as well be shoving a needle of water into your arm."

"Yeah man but god dammit, I love that fuckin' stuff." I heard footsteps, and immediately ducked down, bringing the hood of my jacket over my head. The car shook, as I assume one of the raiders leaned on the shell. I didn't dare look up, though, not even daring to breath, but in my tense state I managed to tighten my hand around my knife, which was tucked up under my chest with both of my arms. It was then, though, that my arm began to twitch.

" _Heart Rate; greater than the one hundred beats per minute resting rate. Threat level is set to Zed, and combat level has been raised to five._ " I had no idea what any of that meant, but soon, the Vault Boy in my eyepiece looked expectantly at me. " _Operator Katrina, Vatty will take action in defense of your body once you lock onto target._ " I blinked, and looked up. And it was at that moment, everything changed.

I lost control of my body. The moment my eyepiece made contact with the back of that raider's head, the headband going over my head released a flurry of electric shocks, and my muscles all contracted without my will. I sprung up, and felt my arm swing out from my chest, and my other arm take hold around the raider's head. The knife came to rest over the heart of the raider, and at that moment, the muscle movement of my body came back. All but my arm. The knife lifted up into the air, and after a moment, warm red fluid splattered up and struck my exposed cheek. The other raider jumped to attention, but so did I, this time of my own accord, and much more animalistic than I would have liked. I hopped up onto the back of the trunk, releasing the man I had slaughtered, and holding my knife out in front of me. Looking back from now, if that man was armed with a gun, then that would have been where my story ended. Luckily for me, though, he wasn't. He removed a lead pipe he had strapped to his hip, and lifted it threateningly.

"Got the drop on us now, did you?" He looked at his fallen companion, and then back to me, raising an eyebrow. I was crouched low, knife held out in front of me, with my other arm resting on the trunk of the car for an extra support. My eyes were wide, and in that moment, my heart had never been beating any harder. The man held up both of his hands, and dropped his pipe to the ground. "You look a little lost, friend." He stared into the gap of my jacket, clearly seeing the bright blue and white vault jumpsuit I was commissioned. "You're from the Vault, aren't you?"

I nodded once, and slid back a few paces. He took a step backwards too, nodding to the weapon he had dropped on the ground. "You killed my captor here, so I have no reason to fight with you."

"Captor?" I loosened slightly, taking two shuffles forwards, to the edge of the car. Some snow fell off the edge, and the noise brought me back to attention. I shook my head. "Wait, you were talking to this guy like he was your friend."

The man snickered, and lowered his hands slowly, so that they fell to his sides. "Axel here was a friend, but one that was forced upon me." He pulled a cigarette from his jacket, and snapped a lighter out of his sleeve. He clicked it on, and lit the end of his cigarette, blowing a puff of air out gently. "The name's David. David Advent. What's your name?"

"K-Katrina." I raised an eyebrow, and stepped off of the edge of the car. "Why are you acting so nonchalant about this?"

"You're only armed with that knife, aren't you?" My eyes widened, and I held my knife out again, ready for him to draw on me or something. He waved the hand not securing his cigarette. "Don't worry, I'm not armed. Axel, however, had six shots on his hip. You're lucky you spared my life."

Those words brought the realization to me, and when I looked back on the man I had killed, stabbed through the heart and still leaking blood, I collapsed onto my hands and knees and began to vomit. David stepped over to my side, and rested a hand on my back, rubbing it gently. "Hey there, easy now. Looks like I was right, you're new here." He looked around, and then leaned backwards, snagging the revolver from Axel's hip. He snapped open the barrel, nodded once, and then spun it, snapping it back shut. "Look, I'm a doctor. That's why they haven't killed me, and sent me out with this addict." I looked up at him, and he nodded once, helping me onto my rear so I could lean against the car. He pushed Axel over and sat in between myself and the deceased, so that I might not have to see it again. He pulled a canteen from the side of the bag he was wearing, and handed it to me. "Here, you can't get dehydrated."

I took a mouthful in, and as I swallowed the first bit, my throat began to burn, and I realized how disgusting the taste of this was, so I spit it out, and began to hack again. "What the hell is this?!"

Damon laughed, throwing his head back as he did so, before taking the canteen and drinking some of it himself. "It's got vodka mixed into it. It lowers the freezing point, and gives you a nice buzz, all without enough to make you really that drunk." He held it out to me again, and nodded to my arms, which was shaking. "It'll help the nerves, too. It isn't everyday someone from the vault gets cast out and murders someone."

I nodded once, and took the canteen back, taking in another mouthful, and managing to swallow the most of it before hacking again at the burning sensation in my throat. "God, this tastes like piss!" I exclaimed, shoving the thing into his chest. "I've never had alcohol before, and god damn me if I'll ever have any again." I jumped when my eyepiece retracted into the holster. David did too.

" _Vatty entering sleep mode. Combat level zero, threat level Alpha._ "

David blinked. "What the hell was that? I even heard a little voice too."

I rolled up my right sleeve, and turned my arm over, so he might see the mechanical exoskeleton attached to my arm. I rolled my head forward too, careful not to shake my glasses off, and showed his the headband. "It's called the V.A.T.S. Prototype Model 0. Or just Vatty. It helps me target enemies."

He nodded once, rather impressed by the notion. "I'd heard of V.A.T.S. before, but not of the prototype. I guess your vault got the short end of that stick, huh?" David pushed onto his feet, and flipped over his wrist, looking down on his wristwatch, before nodding once. "I came from the south, and so did you, clearly, since the vault is over there. Where are you headed?"

I held out my Pip Boy, and flipped onto the map screen, and tapped the spot. "Here, some town from the old world. James, my friend from the Vault, told me to start there. In the old world, they called it something like 'Tung-can-knock'?"

David thought for a moment, but then nodded once, glancing down at my Pip Boy for verification, before standing back upright. "Oh, yeah, Tunkhannock was the name of the town before the bombs fell. It has a Vault too, like yours, but it was much larger, and the people were able to leave and start again with a Garden of Eden kit. Or something like it. The place is called New Ephesus, though, run by a group of religious schmucks." He helped me onto my feet, and then turned to the road, motioning for me to follow. "Come, we need to get there before dark."

* * *

We didn't make it. From the map on my Pip Boy, we were still quite a ways off, about four or five miles, meaning we only got through half of the trek. We came upon some ruins as the sun came down over one of the ridges, and for the first time since I'd came out, there was an expanse not covered in snow. It was still a tundra expanse, but there was sparse grass life and only a few patches where snow was dominant. There was only one building that was entire solid, and with his pistol held at the ready, David slowly pushed the door open, and spun around inside, checking all angles of the building. He nodded for me to follow, and I did so, stepping into my first building since exiting the vault. The walls were crumbling in, and the faint hum of a miniature nuclear generator hummed in the background, making a single row of lights flicker above us. The exterior walls were solid, though, or so David said, so he took a seat against one of the walls, and lit up another cigarette. I took a seat opposite him, and pulled my knees into my chest.

At this point I've forgotten to describe how David looked at the time. He was much taller than me at my meager five feet, three inches, standing a lofty six feet, possibly three or four inches in height. His hair was very dark, jet even, and was blasted back over his head. He wore a pair of unappealing glasses, for the fact that it was made of two different frames welded together. Both were round, but they weren't the same size. Even thinking about them now makes me cringe. His face always looked grim, hidden behind a persistent salt and pepper stubble on his chin, which I attribute to his constant smoking sucking the life out of him. He wore a black leather jacket, lined with white fur that jutted out from the opening in the sleeves and the very top, around the collar. Underneath, he wore dirty white doctor's coat, and it came down into a thick pair of jeans, underneath which were obvious a great deal of layers for warmth. On the left sleeve, on the side of his left shoulder was an etched in red cross, surrounded by a circle that it touched at all four points.

"What's that thing on your shoulder?" I asked, nodding at it. David looked up briefly, stared at me for a long moment while taking a draw on his cigarette, and spoke after releasing the cloud of smoke from his mouth.

"It's the group I used to associate myself with. They gave me this jacket before I headed northeast." He smiled, and tapped the loose ashes to the ground, and leaned forward, flipping his backpack off of his back, and pulling out some planks of wood. He grabbed a discarded tire from nearby, and started on a fire for the night. He continued as he fussed with the wood.

"We're... Or, they are called the Followers of the Apocalypse. Since you're from the Vault, you won't have heard of them." He could sense my confusion, which was admirable. "I'm from California. I grew up a Follower. They Followers are this humanitarian group, you see, and they train doctors and general peacekeepers. Probably one of the last groups of people with any real conscious left." He snickered, pulling out a sterling silver lighter, and holding the flame that appeared on the end to some newspaper he stuffed in the stacked wood. It took, so he leaned back, and motioned for me to come closer to the flames. I did so.

"They've been pushing east ever since they put a foot in the Mojave desert. Nevada." Again, he sensed my confusion. I nodded my understanding. "I left there twelve years ago with a squad of twenty doctors, fifty guards, and one hundred or so civilians. In the Old World, hundreds of years ago, the people pushed westward, calling it 'Manifest Destiny'. That they were destined to unite the west under the United States. We called ourselves the same thing, but moved east." His pressed the end of his cigarette into the ground and sighed, staring into the pit as the flames roared to life. "Here I am today, one of few left." David laughed.

I stared down into the flames too, unsure of what to say. Here I was, seated in a ruined warehouse in the middle of a tundra, where yesterday I had food and water and warmth underground. Across from me was a nicotine addicted doctor with a bloodied past. I finally mustered something to say. "What happened to them?"

David shrugged, and leaned back against the wall, staring up into the ceiling now. "You name it, it probably happened. Raiders, slavers, the environment. Hell, the entire state of Nebraska is overrun with Deathclaw. Most of Manifest Destiny was dead or gone by the time we hit Ohio, and at that point, the rest of us split. I was one of four doctors to make it, and the three of us travelled into Pennsylvania together." He smiled wistfully. "That was ten years ago. We made it to Philadelphia, see, which was where the whole of Manifest Destiny was supposed to reach. And that's where we all split up for good. I went north. God knows where the others went."

I stared at him.

[Perception: 7]

"You were close to them, weren't you?"

[Success]

"Yup. We grew up together back in California. Neighbors, you see. Hell, I even had a crush on the one back in school." He lit another cigarette, so soon after another, meaning to me at least the memories troubled him greatly. "Kevin, Amanda, and James. It's a shame Amanda chose Kevin over me, but, whatever is whatever, you know?"

My eyes fired open wider than they had been when I had just killed a man and held a knife on the one I was speaking to now.

"What are their last names, if you don't mind my asking?"

David scratched his chin. "Kevin had the last name deTheos, so Amanda did too. I forgot her maiden name. And James was Roberts, I think." He rubbed the back of his head. "It's been ten years. I completely forgot."

I was shaking at this point. "That's impossible. I'm from the Vault, and my last name is deTheos. And James Roberts took care of me after my parents were kicked out!"

He blinked a few times, and raised an eyebrow. "You're fuckin' joking with me right now. They all came this way? I wish they would have let me know." He shook his head as he released his smoke. "Bastards. I can't believe I ran into their kid, though. That's unbelievable." He chuckled. "Talk about lucky, right?"

I nodded absently, and my heart must have been pounding, because the eyepiece for Vatty slid out, making me jump again.

" _Is combat assistance required?_ "

I gave it a "no", so Vatty acknowledged and slid back away, leaving David and I to simply stare in silence at the fire below. After a few minutes, he checked a watch he he strapped to the bottom side of his wrist. "It's getting late. Sleep, I'll take the first watch."

I did as he said with silence, laying down, rolling over, and closing my eyes. I had nothing left to say at this point, after all.

* * *

 _Sorry for the delay. I ran into a touch of a problem with a heaping handful of a job and homework. Hopefully, in the future, I won't be delayed so long. I apologize for the brief hiatus, but I'm back on it, for the most part. Expect semi-regular uploads from now on. Thank you for the support thusfar!_

 _~Shadow_


	5. Part 4

Part Four

A small trail of light woke me up that morning, which was odd, considering David had mentioned something about shifts. That would imply I would have gotten one too, right? I sprung upwards and pulled the knife from my hip, holding it out at the ready. You could never be too safe in a place like this, right?

Ends up my knife was now pointed at David, who hadn't moved from where I had seen him last. He raised an eyebrow, and lifted both hands up over his head as an act of surrender, but the grin on his face betrayed his facetious nature. "You got me kiddo!" He nodded to the fire pit, next to which was a hunk of meat, fully roasted, and still warm. "I made breakfast without telling you first!"

I slid my knife back onto my hip and smile, taking a cross-legged seat beside the fire, across from his. I pulled the stick out of the gravel, and sniffed the meat cautiously. He insisted it wasn't poisoned, but I shook my head back. "It isn't that, I'm just curious what it actually... _Is_... You know?"

David laughed. "Oh, that's easy." He pointed to a pile of fur in the corner of the room. "It was a squirrel. That's the most of the meat I could pull off of it."

I cringed. It looked like shoe leather on the outside, blackened around the edges, which ensured, for me at least, that it would be most likely cooked all the way through. So my chance of getting a disease from it was slim. I gulped, and chomped down on the thing, and immediately regretted it. Kind of like the vodka water from before. The taste was vaguely reminiscent of the exterior look; shoe leather, with a touch of something gamey I couldn't place my finger on, which I assumed to be the squirrel's "natural taste". Whatever that might be, anyway. If I was fresh out of the Vault, I would have thrown up. I was so hungry, however, after not eating in many hours, that I scarfed down every bit of the leathery meat, much to the chagrin of my better sense. Sure, dehydrated and fake food wasn't that great, but that was what I grew up on. This was like eating a shoe. A gamey shoe, nonetheless.

When I was finished, I glared at David, who was suppressing laughter behind his mixed-frame glasses and cigarette. He held out his flask of the cursed vodka water, and after the taste of the gamey shoe, I would take anything. So I snatched the flask from his hands and began took a few mouthfuls. The burn was not as strong this time, and after the gamey shoe, the water actually tasted quite refreshing. I handed it back to him, shuddered a bit and then came to the realization at what information I had learned last night.

David knew my parents, and James. They weren't from the Vault. My parents were at the Vault for some reason. And now, with a calm head, I was ready to ask David my questions.

"So, you said you knew my parents and James, right?" I began.

He raised an eyebrow, and lifted his cigarette from his lips. "Yeah, I did. Why, do you have questions now?" I nodded. "Then shoot."

"What were my parents like? You know, back in California?"

David smiled wistfully. "Well, your father and I always had our differences. Even as kids, we saw the world as two completely different things. He saw it as needing guidance, whereas I still feel it needs purification. Either way, we constantly were butting heads, but I knew he was the better man. He was very, very intelligent, always looking for someone to help, someone to save. Hell, when he was twelve he applied his first stitches to a wounded dog. The dog lived out its whole life with only a minor limp. Your father shied away from the path of a surgeon, however, and instead favored the route of a physician." He took in some smoke from his cigarette, and then flicked the end into one of the empty sides of the room. "Your mother, on the other hand, was a stone cold woman. Again, very smart. As most doctors are, anyway. However, unlike your father and his bleeding heart tendencies, Amanda was very stoic and rational about her approaches. Even now, I find it hard to believe she actually agreed to having a child, but as I look at you, I see similarities, so I won't argue. She was a fantastic surgeon, though, even better than I or your father put together. She gave her first full operation when she was sixteen, believe it or not."

I blinked. It wasn't at all what I was expecting to hear. Granted, I wasn't sure at the time what I should have expected to hear, but it certainly wasn't that. I was thinking something more mundane. A busy father and a loving mother, maybe, like in the shows. And here they were genius doctors, probably still out there, serving mankind in the way they know best. "That's amazing..." I murmured, pushing my glasses back onto my nose. "What's your specialty, then?"

David stared at me for a moment, but then nodded once, scratching his black stubble. "Well, I'm an anesthesiologist." He saw the confusion on my face, clearly, because he elaborated. "I'm in charge of dosages for putting people to sleep. For surgery, for pain, or for good." He rubbed the back of his head now, chuckling lightly. "Back home, though, I put down a lot more people than I would have liked to. However, they usually beg for it most of the time, so what was my choice?"

I looked down.

[Intelligence: 8]

[Success]

"You did what you had to do, David," I said, shaking my head slowly, before looking up to him again. "You don't have to feel bad. I'm sure you were the last resort, after all. It's not like you like killing them, you know?"

He smiled, and then pushed onto his feet, heading over to the door. He drew the revolver and peered through a crack he opened in the door. I checked my Pip Boy clock. Six o'clock, seventeen minutes. The sun was just cresting over a lower mountaintop, as I could see when I peered in between a crack in the boarded up windows, and for once, I actually was taken in awe by what I saw. We were in a depression between the mountains, and right outside the window was the road we had been following north. I came closer and as David opened the door, I look a longer look.

This area must have been called a "flat" in the old world, because, now in the light, it was clear that it was. A sight for sore eyes, in my opinion. Anyway, we had taken a winding backroad called "JENKS", spelled in large white text just across from this warehouse where we rested for the evening. In the dark, I had a hard time taking in the sights, so in hindsight, I forgot to tell you what the area was.

This flat stretch of road led south into a huge hill, which David referred to as "Coppermine Hill". "Only go up there if you have business with slavers, or feel like being sold off." He murmured this as we exited, nodding to the southward hill. "At the top, behind the trees, is the Copperheads. They're a band of raiders and notorious slavers. You'll find out once we get to Ephesus, but they aren't liked very well here."

 _Quest Added:_

 _To Kill a Snake -_

 _Find out more information on the Copperheads and their dealings. Perhaps they know some more details on my parents, or any of Manifest Destiny's, surviving members. Assuming any of them made it here, that is._

David put both hands on his hips and did a little stretch, lit a fresh cigarette once finished, and turned back to me, just as a chilling wind swept from the south, and rustled the dense pine forest rising up the great green and white mountain right behind him. He blew out some smoke and shot me a cocky grin.

"So, the outskirts of New Ephesus are only five miles up the road. If we just follow route twenty-nine here, we'll be there a little before midday." He started walking, pulling his pack onto his shoulders first. I followed.

"Anything I need to know before I get there?" I ventured.

David nodded. "New Ephesus is quite a strange name for a town in the rural north-eastern United States, right?"

I nodded. "It was Tung-han-knock once, right?" I'm certain I butchered the pronunciation, and right now, I'm still not sure how to pronounce it,

"Bingo. Did the Vault teach any philosophy?"

I shrugged. "I mean, we glossed it. I was very well read though, so I know a thing or two. Why?"

"Ever hear of a guy named Heraclitus?" We stepped over a pair of skeletons in the snow. David barely noticed, but I was struck for a long enough moment he had to clear his throat to bring my attention back, I jogged forward to join him and replied with a shake of my head.

"He was a Pre-Socratic, born and worked in Ionian Ephesus." He sighed when he saw I didn't follow completely. "Turkey, on a Pre-War map." I nodded my understanding, so he continued. "Heraclitus preached about how the world was a constant state of flux, and that nothing could be clearly defined. There was no true meaning to anything, really. He was quoted as saying something along the lines of; 'You will never wade into the same river twice", because the water is always moving, and therefore you aren't touching the same water, see?"

"I follow, but what does any of that have to do with New Ephesus?" We passed a little diner, which had patches of blue paint, stubborn not to be completely torn away from two centuries of abuse. "Sugar Hollow Diner" the sign read, which had fallen from the roof mount and was lodged sideways into the ground.

"Didn't I mention they were religious nuts?" I nodded. He chuckled. "Well, that's what I meant, They practically worship the man. Named the whole town after him. They 'run' New Ephesus in a state of anarchy, although it is, surprisingly, very controlled. There are laws, sure, and protection, but the police force and the church there are the only organized structures around, There are no officials, so everyone is relatively equal. The only difference people can see is in regards to wealth, but even then, the rich can only hold so much power, with no officials to buy."

I blinked. It sounded like a very clever system indeed. With no one to be corrupted, the corruption rampant in Pre-War America, organized crime, and a whole flurry of things would be avoided. I read books on the subject, at least, as ancient criminals like Al Capone could form giant mafias because of government officials having a price tag. However, nonetheless of any benefits, I was still skeptical at the time, but kept my doubts to myself.

"So, what do I need to watch out for?"

"Well, two things really." He paused, and lifted a hand to get me to stop. I did. After a long moment of nothing but the wind rustling trees, he lowered his hand, and we resumed. "First of all, we are going to pass a strip of old shops in the southern outskirts of town. I'll point it out once we get there. That building is an embassy of sorts, held by the faction that New Ephesus directly opposes. However, without an established group to force them out, the place remains. Those people are the Enclave, a group of radical remnants of the former United States. Or, so they say. In truth, they're a totalitarian regime of assholes looking to supplant all established villages and replace them with these hubs for the members of the regime. They want to build an empire under a banner of the Old World."

I shuddered. "Wow, that's sad. I would have hoped the remnants of the States would have at least kept some of the old ideals."

He nodded. "Right. These ones are much worse than the remnants in the west. These ones are somehow more radical." We came upon a bridge that went over a creek, still running, stubbornly, perpendicular to the road. David said we were about three miles out.

Some time had passed before he snapped his finger. "Oh, I forgot to tell you the second thing. It ties into the first one." He stopped me, and turned my way. "Look, if we're lucky, you won't need to know this, but just in case, there is one man you need to watch out for." I swallowed hard, but nodded once. "He is the current headman for the Enclave in this area, but isn't a remnant, He wasn't born into it. He joined it just for the kicks, and slaughtered his way to the top. He's slaughtered whole villages with just himself and a blunt weapon."

It was even worse than I expected. "What's his name?"

David sighed, and blew out the last puff of smoke from his cigarette, and flung the butt into the distance. "The people call him Samson, but he insists to go by another name. A pet name, of sorts, if you can believe it." I swallowed again.

"Nebula. Nobody's quite sure why, but he will kill anyone he hears call him Samson." He rubbed the back of his right wrist. "You can tell him apart by his distinctive and specially made Power Fist. It's black and night, and it can fire out projectiles every time he lands a punch. Whatever you do, don't run into him. You might not survive."

* * *

 _Sorry again for the delay, my schedule is rather erratic, still, so I'm having a hard time coming back to this. I don't plan on stopping, however, for the fans that I have, so don't fear, there will still be updates on the way. Sorry again for the shortness of the this chapter, as I was feeling crunched to get this out, so I wrapped it up without giving it a second section. New Ephesus will be coming next chapter, I promise. Thank you for sticking with it so far! I appreciate the feedback!_


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